Subtly Is Thy Middle Name
by Ms. Unlucky
Summary: Part 3 of my Stalker!Verse: Simonsays' been 'lending a hand' to the NCIS for five months now, and the Director is less than pleased. Tony's conflicted, and come month six, does something he'll definitely regret. TwoShot.
1. Puppy Love

**Author Stuff ~ **Uh... Yeah, so you guys wanted me to make more, so more I shall give you! ;3 This is a Two-shot by the way... :)

**Warning ~ **Slash from here on out, though not anything graphic. (For now...)

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><p><strong>No Courtship Like that of Objectified Love (But Money isn't Everything)<strong>

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, Tony was sure of it. It had been five months since this game of cat and mouse had started–if it could even be called that–and they were no closer to finding out who this SimonSays character was other than the fact that they highly suspected the "Stevens" guy from the case before of being him.

But they had no solid evidence of even _that._

So that's how he found himself, along with Gibbs, Ziva and McGee, sitting in a small conference room with the Director at the head of the table. She didn't look at all pleased. But honestly, he couldn't blame her.

For five months Tony had been receiving e-mails from _'Simon'_, all of them about the cases he and his fellow team members had been assigned, and almost every time the e-mail led them to a piece of evidence, or pointed them in the right direction for catching the killer. It grated on Gibb's nerves, as it did everyone's. _(Mostly)_

But that wasn't the worst of it, at least, not for Tony.

At the end of every case, DiNozzo would find some sort of gift either left on his desk at work, or somewhere in his home. It was beyond embarrassing, because it felt like, and dare he repeat what Abby had commented, SimonSays had a crush on him. After all, the e-mails were only sent to _him_, they only addressed _him_ and _he_ was the only one receiving gifts at the end of every case.

So again, if the Director reached into her pocket and pulled out a butter knife, and then proceeded to cut a slice of the tension filling the room for herself, Tony really wouldn't be surprised.

"Agent DiNozzo, go over exactly what you've received so far from this Simon character again please," it wasn't a request, the _'please'_ obviously there simply for the Hell of it.

"Ma'am we've been over this several times, it's in my written repor-"

"Humor me." And how could Tony argue with that?

"Uh… Well, after the McKath case, I found a um, thing of roses on my desk…" No matter how many times he'd gone over this, and even though Ziva, McGee and Gibbs had been there when he'd found the flowers, he still couldn't help the burning sensation creeping its way over his face and down his neck. "After the Lee Chung case, I found a jewelry case on my desk. There was a two-thousand dollar silver watch inside."

Tony risked a glance at Gibbs, who seemed as stoic as ever, and Ziva and McGeek, who both seemed like they were pissed. Again, couldn't blame them, they hadn't been able to close a case for themselves in the past five months, and if it wasn't for the fact that they were catching the bad guys; saving innocent people, Tony might have felt the same way.

Not that he was saying he was _O.K. _with what SimonSays was doing, no not at all he was just… just… He was _just, _okay? He was _conflicted_. How was he _supposed_ to feel about some random stalker dude putting the badies in jail and giving him expensive, romantic gifts? He hadn't learned what to do in this kind of situation at cop school, alright?

"After the Garcia case I went home to find a thing of Wine and a steak dinner on my kitchen table…" That gift he had actually enjoyed, Tony was going to admit. The steak had been done _just the way he liked it_. Which, even though it creeped the Hell outta him, had been welcomed after a particularly grueling day of work. And the Wine, well, it was his favorite brand, which again, _creepy_, but not exactly unwanted or unliked. "With three other cases closed I've received an expensive suit, some really good Scotch and a… puppy."

The Director raised one of her delicate eyebrows at the last one, and hey, he didn't blame her, that one had thrown him for a loop too. He'd gone home expecting to either find dinner or another watch on his kitchen counter but instead, he'd found a big red box with a white bow sitting in the middle of his living room, and out popped a Boxer puppy with a collar and a card claiming her name was "Cassie".

Though still pretty young, the dog seemed to be precariously trained. Which made Tony just a little more than suspicious, because the only commands the pup knew were come, stay and attack. Those weren't exactly the first things you taught a dog…

"Uh, ma'ma, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is this meeting about?" Because it sure as heck wasn't just to humiliate him in front of Gibbs, McGee and Ziva again, or at least he hoped not. Who knew, maybe the Director was secretly a sadist…

With a sigh the Director leaned back in her chair, pushing a folder across the table toward Gibbs, who pointedly did not lose eye contact with the fierce woman as he opened said folder.

"So far Simonsays has done nothing to breach NCIS security, and in all actuality, he's simply helped the NCIS along with cases," She broke away from the staring contest with Gibbs before pinning Tony with her gaze. "I for one wanted to go after the son of a bitch with everything we had, but others, people on a higher pay roll than myself to be specific, aren't too concerned seeing as he's done nothing but send a few e-mails–"

"And stalk one of their own; broke into his apartment!" Ziva looked beyond pissed, but Tony agreed with her protests. She'd just beaten him to the punch.

"On multiple occasions," McGee added.

The Director nodded in agreement. "Yes, but unfortunately they seem to think that letting the local law enforcement deal with that will more than suffice. But… I have added security to data files and personal files, and Tony," she looked at him again, and even though his frustration was telling him to be a pain in the ass, his common sense told him to shut up and hear the woman out. It was obvious she too was unhappy with the arrangements. "I'm assigning you a security team. I wasn't able to get clearance on a team to follow you throughout your day, but I was able to get someone to watch your house."

"Yes ma'am." Tony slouched in his chair. Well, it could be worse. He could have someone following him everywhere he went, like in the bathroom and stuff. Never mind the kind of stunt SimonSays would have to pull off in order for that to be necessary…

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, are we done here?"

The Director nodded, a small bit of sympathy making its way into her eyes. "Yes, you are dismissed… Except for you Jethro."

Oh, well crap. Tony knew that voice, and he'd be damned if it didn't make him move a bit faster out of the room. That was her _I'm-pissed-and-need-to-vent-on-some-inconspicuous-bastard_ voice. He did not envy Gibbs' position now, no sir-y.

Tony made his way back to his desk; watched as Ziva and McGee stiffly did the same before deciding to just bury himself in their newest case. They'd been on it for about a week and had gotten pretty far before hitting a metaphorical brick wall.

Mr. Finley was Ex-military, found dead in a cheap motel on the outskirts of town. The murder weapon was a hunting knife, found bloody but clean of prints at the scene of the crime. They had thought it had been Mr. Finley's neighbor, having been previously in the military and a hunter himself, but he had a good alibi. A _very_ good alibi: dinner with his wife, Judy Finley.

Personally Tony thought the chick was lying through her teeth, but he had no proof, so they were back to square one again.

With a heavy sigh, Tony logged into his computer, planning on going over a few witness statements to see if they'd _(Doubtfully)_ missed something so far.

That is, until he saw he had a new E-mail:

_SimonSays gmail . com_

_**You're on the right track**_

_Mrs. Judy was nowhere near the Finley residence at the time of the murder. Alberta Garcia's birthday dinner halfway across town: Mr. Finley was not invited._

_Photo's below will be all you need._

_Sincerely,_

_Simon_

Tony scrolled down and looked at several attached photo's of what looked like Mrs. Alberta Garcia and Judy at a small house party. _(Birthday party…)_

Still, there was no way to prove when these pictures were taken, but just as the thought had crossed his mind, Tony saw a picture of Judy and Alberta holding up a cake.

_Happy 40__th__ Birthday_

Tony was gonna take a shot in the dark and say that Alberta had just turn the big 4'Oh. Smirking, Tony leaned back in his desk chair and waited for Gibb's to come back from the Directors office to share the news.

Tony may have been _'conflicted'_, but he at least didn't harbor all negative feelings for the mysterious Simonsays. So what if he left him expensive gifts after every solved case, he was helping putting the badies away, wasn't he? Tony was a little creeped out by it all, yes, but he was still grateful.

Flicking his eyes back to the pictures of Mrs. Finley and Alberta, Tony couldn't help but try and imagine Mr. Finley's face when his alibi blew up in his face. He smiled to himself, and _(Though he'd deny it 'til his death bed)_ maybe, sorta, kinda prayed a little 'thank you', to whoever–_wherever_–Simonsays was.

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><p><strong>Well...?<strong> I got a few requests to continue with my _(What i'm now considering calling the 'Stalker!Verse', that is, if you don't think that sound_s_ gay? Seriously, should I call it the 'Stalker!Verse' or something different? O_O ) _series of Burn Notice/NCIS crosseovers so... here ya go. ;3 CHapter two will be posted soon~ ^^


	2. All is Fair in Love and War

**Author Stuff ~ **So here's chapter two, enjoy~! :DDDDDDDDD

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><p><strong>Hell Hath No Fury (Like a Jealous Stalker)<strong>

When being trained to be one of your governments top assets, one of the first things they drill into your head is that emotions make you sloppy; make you take risks or do things you normally wouldn't even consider. To his defense though, DiNozzo had been at least partially responsible for what he did, and technically all Michael had done was… shed a little _light_ on the situation, if not exaggerating just a bit.

For about six months now he had been courting one Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and for six months DiNozzo had been a Saint, only abiding to his libido with his _(Slender, soft, almost Devilish)_ right hand. This was fine, men did have their needs, and okay, _technically_ they weren't in a relationship and now that Michael really thinks back on it he just made a total creepy stalker out of himself, but _hey!_ It was definitely DiNozzo's fault too.

If he didn't have such kissable lips, or walk with an almost sensual sway, or have the perfect eyes, or creamy chocolate hair, or the way he– _Ahem_… Getting off topic. Point being, if he wasn't so God damn irresistible, maybe Michael wouldn't have been so harsh about the outright _cheating_.

He guessed it started after DiNozzo had, had a particularly heated conversation with his father over the phone. Michael didn't like to ease drop on family calls, and though he knew almost everything else about the Special Agent, he saw family matters as something to stay personal. So it did.

But something had upset him, and DiNozzo had left to go drown his sorrows and mixed emotions in hard liquor at a local bar.

Michael had followed.

For a while everything was fine. He was getting drunk and happy, and Michael was about to leave, really he was, until he saw how interested the Bar tender looked.

Blond hair, hourglass figure, glossed plump lips and way too much make up: every drunks dream woman Michael supposed, but the bitch was stepping into his territory now. DiNozzo was his, the Agent just didn't know it yet.

And maybe that's what Michael regrets the most.

Maybe if he had staked his claim sooner, all of the catastrophe to come could have been avoided. Again, he still at least partially blamed DiNozzo.

A few sweet words and _'accidental'_ showings of quite a bit of her cleavage–leaving very, _very_ little to the imagination–and DiNozzo was unsteadily following the chick to her car. The bitch didn't even bother to get him to a proper bed, she simply opened the back door, shoved him in and went for a ride.

To say Michael was pissed was an understatement, and it only got worse when the bar whore finished up, fixing their clothes before leading a very drunk, fucked out and exhausted Special Agent back to his car and leaving him to his own devises.

It was a particularly chilly night out, and though Michael had half a mind to just leave DiNozzo's drunken ass out in the cold; fumbling with his car keys, he rationalized that it was at least a drunken escapade, and therefore it was only half his fault he had been played by the bimbos Siren call.

So Michael helped him out.

He was too drunk to really understand what was going on–not to mention that he just shot all his remaining brain cells out of his dick–but Michael was still being cautious.

He didn't speak very much as he half carried, half dragged the Special Agent to the passenger side of the car, buckling him in before taking the keys and getting in on the driver's side. He did talk a bit on the way to DiNozzo's apartment though, it was just too big a temptation to pass up, even if he didn't get much of anything but a slurred, incomprehensive babble in reply. He was dying to hear the man's voice, to be the one it was directed at.

He hadn't had that since the interrogation months ago, and even then he regrettably wasn't paying much attention to the man.

Anyways, back to what he had done in his betrayed love sick rage…

After tucking the young Agent in for the night, he left a glass of water and headache medicine on the bedside table for the morning. He may have been mad, but remember he was in a _"Betrayed love sick rage"_. That's different then wanting straight up revenge; he already had something in mind for the Special Agent anyways.

He said a little 'Hello' to Cassie, took her for a short walk and fed her; whipped the house and car clean of any prints and then left.

He was sure DiNozzo had been a little suspicious when he found the water and pills ready for him when he woke up, but Michael was positive he'd just chalk it up to his one night stand being nice enough to get him home and then _cared_ enough for all the rest.

He would soon find out just how wrong he was.

Half way through the day and everything was set, with Fiona and Sam helping him _(Fiona perhaps a little too chipper about the whole thing)_ it had all gone smoothly and without a hitch. Still feeling exceptionally cold, Michael went through with his plans without as much as a second thought.

Within minutes all of the Agents _(Including the Director) _got an inconspicuous e-mail from one SimonSays. And what they found in said e-mail, well, it wasn't so inconspicuous.

The video was grainy and Michael had actually been a little surprised that it had color, but the parking lot security camera had caught everything on tape perfectly. It was almost like the blond bimbo had known just where to park to get the best angle; for the camera to get the best view.

And no, Michael had not just stopped at sending every one of DiNozzo's coworkers a video of his drunken one night stand: he'd sent a full background check of the bitch he'd fucked as well.

Turns out she was a good girl–a _'daddy's girl'_, ironic right?–until she hit her senior year in High school. That's when she discovered drugs and alcohol. From there her track record was all over the place, from theft to assault, and Michael might have added a few things just to mess with DiNozzo, but it'd take a while for anyone to notice so he got the satisfaction of watching the Special Agent squirm; thinking he'd just had sex with a destructive Pyromaniac.

So yeah, maybe he shouldn't have ignored his years of military training. Maybe emotions really did make you take risk you never would have if you'd been emotionally detached from the situation, but as Fiona and Sam both helped him keep track of the punishment, awkward meetings and paper work DiNozzo had been subjected to because of Michael's stunt, from its fallout, he really just couldn't bring himself to care.

He just hoped DiNozzo got the message: Michael didn't like to share…

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><p>Okay, so... I think i'm gonna write more, but I was wondering if there's anything specific you'd like to see Michael or DiNozzo do in this? Or maybe a certain direction you'd like to see this fic go? A specific plot line or timestamp you'd like to see play out? Anything that comes to mind, just tell me and i'll see if I can write it, m'kay? ;D<p> 


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